Blood's Thicker Than Water
by JustAGirl'xo
Summary: Rob has a secret, and when his secret comes tottering into the factory in a pair of heels and tugging a humongous pink suitcase along behind her, his and Carla's lives are thrown into a frenzy. Alongside their recent struggles with love and murder, will the bombshell be the final nail in the coffin and destroy their little family for good?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is an idea I had a couple of years ago that I planned and never put into words. Remember when Sally Webster referenced Carla's 'niece' who has never been mentioned since? She exists. Her name is Roxie Donovan, and this is her story. I am, however, going to focus on the tragic love life of Carla and Rob's struggle to keep his murderous secret, so don't just tune out and assume it's one big story about an OC. And I may just think about bringing a certain Mr Barlow back ;). The story starts in December 2014.**

**- Peter has left (he's due to be leaving the show in September). In this story, he's been released following lack of evidence, struggles to live around Carla without being able to touch her, and runs away to Canada to be with his nephew, Adam.**

**- Ryan is back. He lives in the pub with Michelle, Steve and Liz.**

**- Peter gave his shares of the factory back to Carla, which she owns single-handedly but runs with the help of Rob, who has split up with Tracy following Peter's release but still co-owns the pawn brokers with her, and Michelle, who helps out from time to time in particularly busy periods.  
**

**- Rob lives with Carla in her old flat in Draper's Mill, just because I missed the flat that housed so many beautiful memories and wanted to bring it back. :P  
**

**That's about it, I'll fill you in on any other characters as and when they become crucial to the story's plot.**

**I hope you like it. If you're wary, give it a chance, you may be surprised at the obscene amount of Carla that I've stuck in here. :P**

**Chloe xxx**

* * *

Texts, Facebook and the odd email or two. That's what their contact had been limited to for the last fifteen years. She hadn't heard her voice since the day she'd been taken away, let alone seen her face. She had been six-years-old, tiny, even for her age, and just like her father in so many ways. She'd always had a temper on her; the concept of the 'terrible twos' had been an understatement beyond belief, but they had coped together. Since then, her mother had banned all contact, whisking her away to the other side of the country. The first she'd heard from her had been when she was twelve, when she had ventured onto Facebook in search of those who'd once loved her. She'd succeeded, but was reaching an age, at twenty-one, when she needed them the most.

* * *

"I do miss him. I miss the cuddles and the little chats and the Chinese takeaways in front of the telly. The stuff that just seems so unimportant at the time…" Carla admitted, unable to meet the sympathetic eyes of her best friend and former sister-in-law Michelle, instead focusing on the strand of dark hair that she was twisting aimlessly around her index finger.

"Yeah, but he did cheat on you-"

"Thanks, 'Chelle, I do remember."

"You could do so much better than a scumbag like that."

"And you get the pleasure of having me for company at the flat again, now. I've got to make for better conversation than a moody old alkie," Carla's younger brother Rob teased, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted. Supportively, he slung an arm around his sister's shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze, letting her know that he was always there for her.

"Rob's right, you've got us. Who needs Peter Barlow, 'ey?" Michelle smiled, placing a caring hand on Carla's knee. Carla sighed.

"I do…" she murmured, desperately trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. Peter had fled the street a few months before after confessing the truth about his sordid affair with Tina McIntyre to his beloved wife but, in spite of his actions, Carla still missed him like she was missing a limb. Today was 4th December; it should have been their first wedding anniversary, yet she had no idea where she was. Supportively, Michelle moved to sit beside her friend and gave her a loving cuddle – it was going to be a difficult day.

* * *

A young girl stood outside the factory, shivering with cold despite being wrapped up snugly in a stylish black leather jacket, her slender arms hugging her body to retain its natural heat. Every time she moved to step inside the building, she hesitated, fear-struck. The thought of their reaction terrified her. They wouldn't want her here, she'd convinced herself of that fact for months each time she'd even considered making that dreaded taxi journey to unfamiliar territory. Now, she had no  
choice. It was them or the streets.

* * *

With Rob giving Kirk a hand in the distribution section of the factory and Michelle at the far end, checking over some of the materials that had recently been delivered, Carla was able to enjoy a rare moment of peace. As grateful as she was for their help and support, she couldn't help but want to savour the odd half-hour that didn't involve anyone cuddling her or asking if she was okay. She absentmindedly stared over Julie's shoulder, supposedly eyeing up the large pair of lace briefs that she was speedily stitching. Part of her wanted to call Peter, whilst the other part knew that that would get her nowhere, that, eventually, he might call her off his own back. She was really struggling without him, him having been the shining light in her darkness for so long. The peace was soothing, yet also gave her almost too much time to think about pointless matters. Unfortunately, the tranquillity of the factory was soon to be destroyed as the ominous click of high heels across the factory floor echoed in the distance. The footsteps gradually got closer. As a small-framed figure slipped into the room, Carla glanced up, and her green eyes widened with shock. The girl was dressed in a simple pair of faded skinny jeans and a plain white tank top, which was decorated with a brown belt that slimmed her hips and a matching scarf. A black leather jacket – which sent a stabbing pain of familiarity through Carla's heart – and a pair of little black wedged boots completed the girl's look. Her sandy-coloured hair hung loosely around her round face, finishing just past her collarbone. She was beautiful, but in a subtle way, unlike Carla, whose beauty was maximised by her designer clothes and powerful demeanour. The girl was toting a light pink, oversized suitcase, and as she stopped short in her tracks, she flashed Carla a wide, knowing grin, her grey eyes glistening under the hot factory lights.

"Flamin' hell…" Carla muttered, quickly ushering the girl into the office before any of the workers noticed her unexpected arrival. It was too late, however, as, having laid eyes on the suspicious pair, a mistrustful Michelle slowly made her way across the factory floor, her neat brows furrowed in confusion. Once safely away shut away inside the office, Carla looked the girl up and down. To an outsider, she looked to be an average 20 – 25-year-old, but Carla could pinpoint her age to the exact date and even time.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack, or is that just part of the package?"

"Part of the package," the girl shot back, quickly, her expression lighting up mischievously. Carla shook her head, remaining serious.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Kicked out of uni. And I'm not stuck in my mum's little cardboard-box life anymore, so I can go where I want."

"Come here…" she sighed, her expression still unreadable as she stepped towards the girl and wrapped her arms tightly around her, giving her a firm cuddle, as though she was a long-lost friend. Michelle, who had been watching the pair through the window in confusion, burst into the office and quickly closed the door behind her.

"Care to tell me what's going on in here?" she questioned, frowning at Roxie, who slipped out of Carla's arms at the instantly recognisable sound of Michelle's voice and flashed her a smile identical to the one she had given Carla earlier, "Who are you?"

"Don't you recognise me?" the girl asked, waving a hand to her womanly figure, "I know it's been, what, fifteen years, but I haven't grown that much, have I? Should I have made it easier and shown up in a little Sleeping Beauty dressing up dress?" Automatically, Michelle's expression softened; in fact, she almost laughed.

"Jesus Christ…" she commented, before engulfing the girl in a quick hug, "This is a nice surprise! How did you know we were here?" The girl glanced at Carla, who merely shrugged in response.

"Long story," she replied, wanting to keep her secret communication with the girl to herself for the time being.

"She knows her dad's here, doesn't she?" Michelle asked Carla, quietly, as the girl's face fell, her eyes flashing with a hint of anger.

"I thought he was in the nick?"

"Not anymore. But please don't start anything, love, not now. We've had it rough the last few months, all of us…" Carla pleaded. The three women jumped in surprise as the door of the office banged open, and they were met by Rob's puzzled face. He kicked the door shut again with his foot before resting the pile of folders that he was carrying down on Carla's desk.

"Who's she?" he asked, rudely, nodding towards the girl, whose posture had suddenly altered, her arms folded across her chest in an aloof manner.

"Hello, Rob. I'm surprised you don't recognise me," she snapped, bitterly, "You see these eyes in the mirror every morning." She pointed at her two greyish-blue eyes that so hauntingly matched his, except that hers were framed by abnormally long, dark eyelashes, and gave a chuckle as Rob's expression remained perplexed.

"What if I called you by your alternative name? 'Dad'?" A butter knife could have sliced the tension in the room as Rob froze, a realisation suddenly hitting him like a ton of bricks.

"My Roxanne…?" he asked, his voice having fallen to just above a whisper. Roxie laughed again.

"Nobody's Roxanne. Especially not yours," she replied, her eyes narrowing into slits as she said the words that she had pent up for twenty years to her errant father.

"Hey, now, come on, what have I done?" came Rob's indignant response.

"It's what you haven't done. You never picked me up from school, you never came to watch me in my Christmas plays, you weren't there to take a photo with me looking a million dollars at the end-of-year prom-"

"I was-"

"Inside? Good excuse, Rob, but not very well planned out, because a little birdie told me that you've been in and out more times that a flamin' jack in the box. You could have called," Roxie responded.

"And I wonder which little birdie that was…" Rob glared at his sister, who was still stood beside Roxie, though he was met by a look of surprise.

"Not her, so back off," Roxie jumped in, defensively, "Go on, ask me where I've spent the last two years and you might be able to figure it out."

"Fine. Where have you been?" There was a brief silence, as Roxie nervously glanced over at Michelle, wary of her reaction.

"Glasgow University."

"You've been talking to Ryan?" Michelle's voice had quickly grown higher in astonishment, and she felt somewhat hurt that her only child hadn't informed her that he had been in contact with a long-lost member of his extended family. Roxie smiled, apologetically.

"The penny drops."

"Why didn't he say owt?"

"I don't know, ask him." A tense silence engulfed the foursome, none of whom knew what to say. Finally, Roxie spoke, almost jovially, as she rested a hand atop her suitcase.

"Right. I need somewhere to stay. You aren't getting rid of me that easily. Car?" Again, she was met with silence, as Carla shot her a small, rueful smile.

"Sorry, kid. Your dad lives with me, and I think that's dodgy grounds."

"Looks like it's me and you, then, 'Chelle…" Roxie replied, hopefully. Michelle glanced at Carla, suddenly put on the spot, though she gave a heavy sigh and shrugged her shoulders, knowing that she couldn't turn the girl out on the street when she had a spare bedroom, at least for the time being while her boyfriend Steve's mother visited his twin brother in Spain.

"Come on, then," she mumbled, placing her hands on Roxie's shoulders and guiding her and her large suitcase out of the office, not before hissing, "You owe me one," at Rob. Rob grinned, though his face fell as he met Carla's fierce eyes – she was less than impressed with his poor effort to regain the trust of his abandoned daughter, whom he hadn't contacted since she had been a tiny baby dumped on their doorstep amidst one of her mother's infamous breakdowns.

"Sort it out, Rob," she snapped, shooting him a dirty look before strutting out of the office to dominate the workroom once more, all thoughts of Peter thankfully pushed to the back of her mind for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, thank you so much for the reviews! I'm amazed that anyone's showing an interest in this story, I assumed I would just be writing it for my own amusement, so I decided to do another update. (For any of you who are following my other fics, I will eventually get round to updating 'Pretty Woman', but I'm throwing a blank with that one at the minute).**

**Thank you again. This fic is rated T for now, and I was planning for it to be 'T' for quite some time, however, things seem to have changed in this update and I may be needing to change the rating sooner than expected. :P**

**Just so you know, I'm going away on Friday until next Saturday, so updates may be scarce. Sorry in advance!**

**Chloe xxx**

* * *

Roxie quickly settled in to her new home at the Rovers Return, though was less than impressed with the idea of working a few shifts in return for a roof over her head. Within the hour of moving in, she had curled up on the living room sofa, retrieved her red nail polish from her suitcase and had started to paint her nails, filling the back of the pub with the pungent scent of varnish. Steve was hovering in the doorway with Michelle, a pained expression plastered across his face. He was content with his little family set-up, himself, his girlfriend, her son and his daughter half of the week. He didn't like the idea of a pretty twenty-something wrecking that.

"How long's she stopping?" he asked. Michelle merely shrugged.

"Dunno. Years, judging by her suitcase." Steve gnawed nervously on his lower lip, ushering Michelle out of the doorway and pulling the door to behind them.

"And what do I tell my mother when she gets back from Spain?" he hissed, "'Hello, mother, how was your holiday? Weather nice? Oh, by the way, you'll have to find somewhere else to live because Michelle's turfed you out for her twenty-something niece-in-law?".

"We can cross that bridge when we come to it. Besides, I can't just chuck her out on the streets, she's Rob's kid."

"So let Rob deal with her, then."

"I never said that were a good thing!" Michelle cried, indignantly. Steve groaned, exasperated, and span on his heel, storming through to the pub, which was almost empty apart from a couple of regular lunchtime drunkards and the factory lot, who were all huddled in one booth in the corner.

"Look, Steve, our Paul thought the world of that kid. She was like family to him, in fact, she was family to him, she was his niece as well. Kicking her out would be like stomping all over his memory…" Michelle sighed, trailing off sadly as the memories of her brother came flooding back to her, playing football with Roxie in the back garden and reading her to sleep at night. After Rob had been sent to prison for armed robbery, she had been placed into their care, where she'd remained until her chavvy mother decided to show her face one random morning and demand her back. Paul had been devastated when she'd been taken away.

"Fine," Steve grumbled, holding his hands up in defeat, "She can stay. But only until my mum comes home, otherwise all hell's going to break loose."

* * *

Meanwhile, Roxie had fortunately not overheard their conversation, or if she had, she was doing well to let it pass over her head. She was just adding the finishing touches to her pinkie finger when footsteps bounded down the stairs and the living room door burst open. She dropped the bottle of varnish and brush to the coffee table in surprise as she glanced up and met the familiar eyes of Ryan Connor, who looked equally as startled as she did.

"Ryan!" she exclaimed, quickly moving to save the table from permanent varnish stains, "Hi." Ryan opened and closed his mouth repeatedly until he could find the words to utter.

"Rox… What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, blinking a few times as if unsure if she was really there.

"I got kicked out of uni and didn't want to go back to Mum's."

"Kicked out? What did you get kicked out for?"

"Take a wild guess…" Roxie kinked an eyebrow, a dozen dirty secrets buzzing between the pair as they recalled the year they'd spent together at the University of Glasgow.

"… Oh. Wow. They caught you?"

"Yup."

"Jesus…" Ryan mumbled, suddenly acting on the urge to roll his eyes over her body, her perfectly dressed form, stunning figure and pretty face, "You look… Good" He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. Roxie blushed in return, glancing down at her pedicured feet.

"Thanks. You don't look half bad yourself." She smiled, knowingly, glancing back up at him through her long, dark eyelashes and holding his gaze. A surge of electricity filled the room, and Roxie's body felt hot under the pressure of the lights. Her arms goosebumped, and the tiny hairs all across her body stood on end. It was clear by his stance that Ryan could feel it, too. His eyes continued to roam her slim form. What he wouldn't give to devour her right there and then.

"Ryan!" The moment was rudely disturbed by Michelle's shrill call as her footsteps echoed from the bar. Within seconds, she had appeared behind Ryan in the doorway, poking her head around him, "Ooh, this is weird, I forget you two know each other as something other than a couple of kids running around dressed as Disney characters." She grinned, her eyes flicking between the two.

"Oh yeah, I definitely don't think of Woody from Toy Story every time I look at him now," Roxie responded, somewhat awkwardly, her heart leaping at her eyes met Ryan's once again.

"Aw, you two were so cute. Anyway, partner, Sean's been begged to do some overtime at the factory tonight, and I was wondering if you'd mind covering his shift tonight…?" Michelle asked her tall, handsome son, her heart swelling with love as he gave a small sigh and nodded reluctantly. She couldn't put into words how happy she was to have him home, regardless of the baggage he bought.

"Alright…"

"You're an angel! Hey, maybe you could show Roxie the ropes as well? The quicker we get another barmaid on tab, the better." Ryan glanced sideways at Roxie again, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he envisaged the pair of them working the busy evening shift in such close capacity.

"Mum, you always have such good ideas…" As he spoke, he did not take his eyes from his pretty distant relative, wanting to see her squirm as the idea of being around him filled her mind, too. It did, and Roxie could not deny to herself that she wanted to be around him, to feel the heat of his breath against her neck all over again.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan to me…" she added, her voice catching in her throat. Michelle cheered, before standing on tiptoe and pressing a motherly kiss to Ryan's cheek.

"Thanks, kids!" she sung, slipping back out of the room and tottering through to the pub. A silence fell upon the young pair as they watched one another cautiously, before Ryan began to back out of the room.

"I'll catch you later, then…" he called, holding Roxie's gaze for a brief moment longer, eventually tearing himself away and following his mother. Roxie puffed a sigh through her lips and let her head tip back to rest against the back of the sofa, groaning. This was not how she had planned to spend her first day in Weatherfield, pulling pints in a backstreet pub and longing for the barman to touch her waist and show her what she was doing wrong. She tried to rid her mind of the memories of Ryan's hot, muscled, sweaty body pressed against hers, his lips on her neck and his fingertips brushing all the right places that plagued her, but she failed miserably. There was no denying what she wanted, though she knew that she would have to try her best to prevent it from happening again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it's been so long, I've been in Bulgaria. I'm going away again tomorrow, but I'm hoping to have decent Internet connection while I'm there, which means I'll be able to update this. I'll also update 'Pretty Woman' as soon as I can, but this fic is just so much easier to write at the moment. :)**

**Thank you for the reviews!**

**Chloe xxx**

* * *

"How quickly do I do this one?" Roxie asked, innocently, tilting the pint glass in her hand towards the pump. She'd worked in a bar before, only briefly, over the summer before she'd begun university, but acting as the helpless beginner was certainly working in her favour. She froze as she felt the warmth of Ryan's presence behind her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as his fingertips lightly brushed her waist, his other hand gracing her arm as he gently guided it downwards, forcing the liquid to pour into the glass.

"Like this…" he murmured softly, directly into her ear. Roxie shivered, her thoughts racing. _Does he know?, _she pondered, _Does he know the effect he has?_. She tried to regain her composure as she finished serving Jason Grimshaw, sliding his pint towards him across the bar and thanking him with a sweet smile. She took a deep breath before turning to Ryan, who was eyeing her up with a smirk plastered across his face.

"What?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Nothing, nothing…" Ryan replied, grazing his bottom lip with his teeth seductively, "Just admiring how good I am a teacher."

"You really do love yourself, don't you?"

"You and me both, sweetheart, that's why we work so well together…" he trailed off, running his eyes over her scantily-clad form; her black miniskirt, her low-buttoned baby blue shirt, and her sky-high black patent heels. Her hair was loose and formed perfect waves that framed her round face. The pair were silent for a moment, simply holding one another's gaze, before the moment was interrupted by a familiar cackle coming from the doorway.

"So I told him to just bog off and mind his own- Roxie!" Carla exclaimed, tottering over to the bar and throwing her arms around her niece, "Hello, you. I still can't believe you're here, it's like a dream."  
Roxie glanced over Carla's shoulder, her eyes narrowing as they met her father's, who was lingering awkwardly in the doorway.

"Some dream," she scoffed, stepping back behind the bar as she pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest, "What are you doing here?"

"It's my local," Rob responded, with a shrug, "And you're my daughter."

"I _was_ your daughter. It's past tense, Rob." Carla sighed heavily as she moved towards her brother and quickly guided him over to one of the booths out of the way of the bar.

"Right, you sit over here and keep it zipped," she instructed, before stepping back up to the bar and wearily leaning against it, "And I'll have a pint of bitter and a very large glass of Shiraz, please, Ryan. If you've got a bucket back there, I'll happily have it in that, ta." Roxie gave a low whistle.

"Bad day?"

"You could say that, it's not exactly been a barrel of laughs with Mr Happy-Clappy over there. Anyway, what are you doing working in this dump, with your degree?"

"Unfinished degree," Roxie reminded her, "I'm just covering my rent. I need a proper job as soon as possible, but you try explaining to your potential employer, 'Oh, I know I was chucked out of uni before I finished my degree, but I was really good at it, honest'."

"What was it you were studying?"

"Business and Management." Carla kinked an eyebrow thoughtfully, carefully picking up her drinks and starting towards her table.

"Well," she called over her shoulder, "I'm sure you'll find something sooner than you think."

* * *

Carla nibbled habitually on the end of her Biro as she scanned her eyes over the various sheets of paperwork that she clutched in her hands. She was sat at her dining room table, accompanied by a bottle of Shiraz that she'd bought from the pub before leaving soon after her conversation with Roxie, due to the vicious glares that Rob had been receiving from his only child. She had been unable to refrain from cramming in a couple of extra hours of work; whilst she was immensely grateful for the unpaid help of both her brother and Michelle, she was still snowed under at the factory after the loss of her business partner – and the love of her life. She barely registered Rob's footsteps pounding down the staircase, and didn't glance up until the sound of his voice pierced her solitude.

"You're still working?" he asked, surprised, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"No rest for the wicked."

"You need help, sis."

"Thank you for the diagnosis, Dr. Donovan, but I'm already one step ahead of you."

"Meaning…?" Rob asked, pulling out the seat opposite Carla and settling down into it, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Meaning I'm going to give Roxie 30% of the business," Carla mumbled, glancing back down at her paperwork, able to feel Rob's intense stare regardless.

"You what?!" he exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing that for?!"

"Because, like you said, I need help! And she's family. I did the same for you."

"I was different, I knew what I was talking about. She's just a kid."

"Yeah, a kid who very nearly completed a Business degree from a good university," Carla pointed out, lifting her eyes to meet his and meeting his disappointed gaze with an identical one of her own, "I really don't understand you, sometimes, Rob. She's your flamin' daughter. You know, this could be the making of her. Why can't you just do what any normal father would and just be proud of her?"

"Because I'm not a normal father, am I? I don't know her, and she doesn't want me to."

"You could change that if you wanted to and you know it," Carla snapped, dropping her paperwork in front of her and leaning closer to Rob, "You just don't care enough."

"I can't make her want to know me, Carla!" Rob exclaimed, pushing back his chair with a shrill shriek, leaping to his feet and shoving the chair back into the table forcefully, "So you do what you want and prance about in your factory with her. It won't change a thing between me and her. It doesn't matter what I want, I've screwed it up already." With that, Rob spun on his heel and stormed back upstairs, the stomping of his feet causing the staircase to shudder in fear. Carla closed her eyes and counted to ten, before taking a deep breath. She knew that that young girl had come to Weatherfield for a reason. She was searching for the family that she had never really known, and whilst she hadn't actively gone looking for her father, she had found him regardless. Right now, Carla understood that Roxie didn't want to know, as every time she looked at him was just a reminder that he hadn't been there to watch her grow up. But she also knew that, eventually the resentment that she harboured for her errant father would fade, and she planned to do everything in her power to reunite their little dysfunctional family for good.


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is a bit rubbish and is just a filler - more Roxie and Ryan drama to come, I promise!**

* * *

Roxie's heart caught in her throat as she slipped into the living room bright and early the next morning, finding herself alone with the man who she'd reluctantly parted ways with on the landing the night before without so much as the brush of his skin against hers. Quickly, Ryan swallowed his huge mouthful of Weetabix and flashed her an embarrassed smile.

"Morning," he mumbled. Roxie said nothing, simply sliding into the chair opposite his at the breakfast table and pulling a little empty bowl towards her, before carefully tipping a miniscule amount of cornflakes into it. "You're up early."

"I need to find a job," Roxie answered, beginning to stir her dry breakfast around half-heartedly, not feeling particularly hungry, "Like, desperately."

"Have you tried the kebab shop? Leanne Battersby quit the other day, she had a massive bust-up with Dev in the street, it was hilarious." Roxie wrinkled her little nose, looking mortified.

"I'm not working in a kebab shop!"

"Why not? You've done worse." At his words, Roxie's cheeks filled with a deep crimson colour, and she stared down into her bowl, unable to meet his eyes any longer.

"We're not talking about that," she snapped, sending them plunging into silence. Ryan coughed awkwardly, quickly returning into his own meal. Thankfully, there was a sharp knock at the living room door, which opened slowly, and Carla slipped inside, followed by Michelle at her heel.

"Right, you," she began, nodding at Roxie and gliding over to place the hands on the back of her chair, "I'm whisking you away. A little birdie's told me you're looking for a job and, well, I have one."

"Carla, I'm not sewing knickers. I can't sew, for starters." Carla sighed, taking her niece's hands in her own and tugging her to her feet, looking her directly in the eye.

"As if I'm letting my own flesh and blood work her little socks off on that factory floor," she replied, a slight laugh behind her words, "I own that business single-handedly now, darling, and I want you to have 30% of it." Slowly, Roxie's grey eyes widened, and her lined mouth dropped open. Carla smirked, knowingly hooking her index finger under Roxie's chin and coaxing her mouth shut. "You'll catch flies."

"Carla, I don't know what to say."

"I find 'yes' to be a good place to start." Roxie hesitated, before nodding eagerly as a brilliant smile spread across her face.

"Alright, yes! Yeah, that would be amazing!"

* * *

As she nervously teetered onto the factory workfloor behind her aunt, dressed in a pair of leggings, a nice grey jumper and a small pair of heels, Roxie slid a couple of hair grips into her hair to fix it in place, having styled it to suit a young businesswoman. She was still unable to believe her luck, though the idea of facing the rabble of workers was a terrifying concept.

"Ladies. And Sean and Kirky," Carla greeted them, coming to a halt in front of her office and slinging an arm around Roxie's shoulder. Roxie scanned her eyes across the perplexed crowd, who was staring back at her with questioning looks. She recognised most of them from the pub the night before. "I have some very exciting news."

"Exciting my backside." Beth Tinker, a chavy worker who was the perfect example of mutton-dressed-as-lamb, snorted.

"I'd like to introduce you all to my niece, Roxie. I'm pleased to say that Roxie is joining the company as my partner in crime as of right now." The room erupted into a flurry of whispers and rumours, mainly revolving around the surprise that Rob had a child. Roxie forced her smile to remain on her face. She was thankful as Carla, eager to escape the interrogation herself, guided the younger woman into the office and firmly closed the door behind her.

"That's the hard part over with," she assured her, moving over to her desk and sliding into her chair, instantly picking up a file and effortlessly flicking through it, "They're alright really, though, once they realise you're not a pushover." As she began to sift through the file for a certain piece of information, Roxie watched her in silence, holding her breath. There was something that she was longing to know, but hadn't yet dared to ask. Even as they'd talked excitedly about the business and what would be expected of her as the minority shareholder on the way over to the factory, there had been a massive elephant in the room, and now, Roxie had decided, was the time to ask the all-important question.

"Car… Where's Peter?" Carla froze, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before she eventually looked up, her lips pressed together.

"Peter?"

"Yeah. Last time I spoke to you, you'd just got married and he was working here with you. What happened?" She sighed and replaced the file on her desk.

"Make yourself comfortable, kiddo. It's a long story."

* * *

"So now, Peter's gone. He said something about going to America to 'find himself'," Carla scoffed, making quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "Ironic, really. When we were in LA, he couldn't wait to leave. Now all he wants is to be there without me."

"Do you miss him?" Roxie asked, tentatively, placing her arms flat on her new desk and resting chin on top of them, leaning forwards in her hair. Slowly, Carla nodded, glancing over at his mug, which still resided beside hers on top of the filing cabinet.

"Every day," she admitted, her voice suddenly faltering as the memories of the love of her life came flooding back to her, "He ruined my life, he destroyed me… But I wish he was here. I haven't felt happy since he left… Until yesterday, when you walked in here and I could see the old me in you." She realised that a single tear was trickling down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, though Roxie had already noticed her aunt's weakness. She smiled sympathetically.

"I can't pretend to know what it's like to lose the love of your life. I've never really loved anyone…" Roxie confessed, sitting back in her seat and hugging her knees to her chest, straining to remember how she'd felt ten years ago when she'd sent a letter to her father, only to have it returned to her without so much as a 'thank you', "But I do know what it feels like to be rejected, or to be made to feel like you're just not important anymore."

"Your dad really got to you, didn't he?" Roxie nodded, though faked a smile, not allowing herself to dwell on the sour memories of her fatherless childhood that still plagued her at the age of twenty-one.

"I'm over it, now. I know he doesn't care."

"He does care, Rox. He just doesn't know how to show it," Carla insisted, though she was met by a pair of glazed, disinterested eyes as Roxie shrugged her shoulders, nonchalantly.

"Yeah, well, I don't. He's dead to me. He died the day he waltzed out of my life when I was just a kid and needed him the most."


	5. Chapter 5

**Short and sweet, but not that good. Apologies!**

**Reviews ****are like chocolate. :)**

**Chloe xxx**

* * *

A loud cackle erupted from Carla's chest as she and Roxie tottered into the Rovers, dressed pristinely in their finest gear, their hair styled and their makeup perfect. Carla's little red dress provided a stark contrast to Roxie's nude and black number, though both women looked flawless. Beside the bar, Michelle glanced up in surprise, and her smile widened as she greeted her distant relatives.

"Wow. Off out somewhere nice?" she asked, somewhat enviously.

"We're going out on the pull," Roxie announced, grinning proudly. Carla scoffed.

"If that's what you want to call it," she laughed, "I'm far too old for that game. And I'm steering well clear of men from now on."

"Fair enough," came Roxie's carefree response, animated with a shrug, "You can keep their mates busy while I do the dirty work." As she glanced up, she instantly caught Ryan's eye. He was working behind the bar, though at her words, he had frozen in his tracks, his heart shattering. Roxie flashed him a knowing smirk, before dropping her gaze once again. "You can come as well if you want, 'Chelle. Make it a real girls' night out."

"She's just had her first payday, and her debit card's burning a hole in her pocket," Carla explained.

"Well, in that case, I'll just go and get changed, and the drinks are on you." As Michelle cheerfully slipped behind the bar and trotted through to her home, Roxie met Ryan's jealous eyes once again. Her skin burned with lust. She knew how to play games, and she certainly knew the effect that this particular game would have on her former lover.

* * *

"Ooh, hello…" Michelle murmured, raising her eyebrows in appreciation of the tall, blond, good-looking bartender who was approaching them. He flashed them a smile as he brushed past their table, and Michelle couldn't resist reaching out and quickly grabbing his bum, before shoving her hand into her lap and bursting into laughter. Roxie and Carla soon joined in her hysterics, though Roxie smiled apologetically at the bemused barman, who shrugged it off and returned to work.

"You're such a cow." Carla giggled, batting her best friend playfully with the back of her hand.

"Oh, but you love me all the same!" Michelle slurred in response. After far too many glasses of the bar's most expensive champagne, accompanied by multiple rounds of Sambuca shots, all three women were a tad worse for wear, Michelle more so than the others.

"I don't blame her. I certainly wouldn't kick him out of bed." Roxie nodded at the hastily retreating barman, who had moved on to another group of drunken women.

"Hang on," Carla began, leaning across the table and pointing her index finger at her niece, "I thought you were-?"

"A lesbian?" Roxie snorted, leaning back in her seat and rolling her eyes. "Please."

"But when I spoke to you a couple of years ago, you were seeing a girl!"

"I went through about a month of experimenting. I'd been through a bad break-up and was feeling very anti-men. I don't know, I just thought it'd be a damnsight easier, being a lesbian."

"And…?"

"And, I just couldn't stay away." Roxie grinned, scanning her eyes across the crowded bar in search of male attention once again. "No, seriously, I like blokes. Not only in a how's-your-father kind of way, but just in general. I don't really have a lot of girl friends, I get on better with men. And nowadays, I like them so much that they get me into trouble."

"Oh aye? Is that why you got kicked out of uni, 'ey? Sleeping with the professor?" Carla teased, though Roxie's face fell at her words, her stomach knotting. Quickly, she cleared her throat, and tried to force a smile to appear on her lips.

"Urgh, did I heck. They were all old and decaying."

"Never stopped Carla!" Michelle giggled, hiding her face behind her hands as Carla shot her a deathly glare. "Peter's nearly fifty!"

"You'll be nearly fifty by the time I've finished with you if you carry on like that," Carla shot back, lifting her wine glass to her and tipping the remaining dregs of Shiraz down her throat, before giving a content sigh. "I'm done. I'll see you ladies tomorrow."

"Oh, boring!" Michelle whined, folding her arms across the table and resting the side of her head against them, batting her eyelashes at Roxie, "What about you, kiddo?" As she opened her mouth to respond, Roxie jumped in surprise as her phone began to vibrate angrily in her lap. She glanced down at the screen, her heart leaping to see Ryan's name plastered across it.

"I think I might make a move as well," she murmured, her cheeks filling with colour, "Stuff to do."

* * *

"Steve's a good man, really," Michelle sighed, tipping her head and resting her temple against the cold, damp taxi window, staring wistfully at the night sky above, "I mean, he's cocked up more times than you could shake a leaf at, but he's funny, and he's nice, and he's friendly, and caring, and funny…" Roxie rolled her eyes, ignoring Michelle's incoherent rambling and turning to the side, mirroring Michelle and glancing up at the glittering stars. She didn't know what to do. The last time she'd given herself up to a man, she'd gotten hurt. She didn't trust herself to do it again. But the times with Ryan in Glasgow had made her so happy, not as stressful as relationships were supposed to be. Then again, she and Ryan had never been in a proper relationship. How could they, with what she was getting up to behind closed doors? Meanwhile, any relationships she'd had had ended bitterly. She was scared. A relationship with Ryan could change everything, but she knew deep down that they couldn't treat each other as nothing more than sleeping partners forever, not now their families were involved. Though whenever she tried to push him to the back of her mind, she couldn't banish the images of his hot, toned chest against hers, his breath on her neck, his gasps, his words, his roaming hands. Even now, the thought of it made her palms clammy with sweat, and stimulated her entire body. She craved him. He may have had a bad reputation for lying and cheating and hurting those around him, but she'd known another side to him that he didn't display to the rest of the world. The Ryan Connor that she knew was kind, caring, and considerate, and it wasn't about just having his wicked way with her and leaving her alone; the way he held her close to his chest all night had made her feel like he really cared about her. Once again, the vibration of Roxie's phone startled her, her heart pounding rapidly inside her chest as she glanced at the screen. One new message, from him, that simply read:

_I need to see you._


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for the reviews, but please don't spam-review me multiple times, as I'm getting an email a day at the moment, all of which are from a Guest reviewer. I appreciate your interest, but it really won't make me review any quicker, as I'm a full-time uni student, I have a job and I have a social life as well. Sorry! I do my best, but please bear in mind that I have quite a few fanfics on the site!**

**Hope you like it and that it was worth the wait. :) I apologise for the rubbish ending, though!**

**Chloe xxx**

* * *

Ryan glanced up from his whiskey eagerly as he heard the nearby sound of laughter, only moments before his drunken mother stumbled through the door, followed by Roxie, who was practically having to hold her up. Noticing her beloved son, Michelle grinned ecstatically.

"Ryan!" she cooed, tottering over to the bar, behind which she was stood, "My beautiful little baby boy. You know how proud I am of you, don't you?" From the far corner of the empty pub, Roxie snorted.

"Urgh, Mum, what the hell have you been drinking? Your breath's enough to knock me unconscious," Ryan complained, gently taking his mum by the shoulders and guiding her through the bar and towards the staircase of their home, "Come on, bedtime."

"'Ey, hang on, we could get another round in. What's the point in living in a pub if you can't abuse the benefits?" Michelle whined in response, her words significantly slurred as she dragged her feet defiantly.

"Well, we're not all young heavyweights like you, mother, some of us like to get to bed before the sun comes up." Ryan sighed, longing to get his mum out of the way to leave him and Roxie alone.

"Spoilsport," Michelle grunted, reluctantly beginning the wobbly trek up the stairs, her hand gripping the handrail tightly. From the bar, Roxie giggled, resting her elbows on the bar and positioning her chin neatly atop the backs of her hands, somewhat tipsy herself.

"'Bed before the sun comes up'? Who the hell are you and what have you done with Ryan Connor?" Ryan shrugged, his arms flopping by his sides as he made his way back through to the bar and slowly approached Roxie, his lips pressed together in an appreciative smirk.

"I'm a changed man," he replied, causing Roxie to groan in disbelief, "No, I mean it. I'm not the ungrateful arsehole I was before."

"Pray, continue."

"I never thanked you for forgiving me for losing the money. If it hadn't been for me, you'd never have ended up-"

"Yeah, well, we all make mistakes, don't we?" Roxie interrupted, quickly, blushing, "I can't hold a grudge against you for the rest of my life because of one stupid bet."

"I don't deserve you." A sudden silence fell on the pair as they held each other's gaze, both mentally undressing the other. Roxie's lips twitched at the corners as she tried to hold back the smirk that threatened to appear, not wanting to encourage their usual flirty banter.

"Is that the time?" she asked without breaking their eye contact, "I need to get some beauty sleep."

"You don't need beauty sleep," Ryan shot back, allowing his eyes to drop to the accentuated curves of her breasts before returning unashamedly to her own eyes.

"I thought you'd changed?"

"And I thought you were all about having fun?"

"I am," Roxie responded, flashing him a small, mischievous smile, "Just not with you." Ryan gave a low whistle, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

"Ouch," he replied, placing his hand over his heart, "That hurt."

"Let's not pretend you have a heart, now, darling." Pleased with herself and her inner strength, Roxie stepped into the bar and deliberately brushed past Ryan on her way towards the house, making her skin goosebump and the hairs all over her body stand up on end. Before she could leave, however, Ryan grabbed her wrist, and her eyelids fluttered shut as she tried to regain composure. Slowly, she span back around to face him.

"Rox…" Ryan murmured, his soft tone sending a shiver down her spine, "You really don't know how beautiful you are, do you?" Roxie's cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet.

"Don't…" she whispered, but she was silenced as Ryan touched his index finger to her lips before dropping his hand again.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Roxie. I've tried to put you out of my head, but it never works, and I know it's not just me. You want me, too. We need to stop this, this dancing round each other, waiting for someone to make the first move-"

"This is very dangerous territory, Ryan, and you know it."

"I don't care. I don't care anymore, the whole world and its' mother can find out, as far as I'm concerned," Ryan uttered, raising his arms as he took a step back from Roxie, who let out her bated breath in exasperation.

"Including yours?"

"Especially mine." He moved closer to her once again, reaching out and allowing his hands to graze her hips, his thumbs rolling in circles around her hipbone, making her gasp softly in longing. "I'm not drunk or on a coked-up high now, Rox."

"Charming." Roxie scoffed, though lightly bit her lower lip as Ryan drew in closer, so close that their faces were almost touching, their foreheads lightly brushing together.

"That's the only reason it ever happened?"

"Course not. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here now, waiting for you to kiss me." Roxie's breath caught in her throat before she whispered her reply.

"You're in for a long wait, sweetheart…" Ryan hesitated for a moment, before tilting his head down towards her and catching her lips with his own. Her body filled with warmth, and every single inch of her skin tingled with pleasure at the brush of his kiss. He broke away, checking her reaction, before kissing her again, this time allowing the tip of his tongue to slide along her lower lip, longing for entry, which Roxie gave him straight away as her lips automatically parted. The kiss quickly deepened, and before long, their tongues were frantically exploring one another's mouths, their hands roaming the other's body. Roxie sunk her nails into the skin of Ryan's back, stimulating a groan from his lips, as his hands became entangled in her long, sandy hair, tugging at it gently. Slowly, the passionate pair began to back through to the main house and towards the staircase, a soft giggle escaping Roxie's lips as Ryan stumbled over Michelle's discarded pair of shoes, which she quickly masked by kissing him again. With him, when she felt his body pressed longingly against hers, she was catapulted into a state of bliss that she'd never experienced before, where her mind ran blank and every inch of her skin was sensitive and craving him.

"Bedroom?" Ryan asked in an excited murmur, suggestively closing the gaps between their lips, his crotch brushing hers. Roxie grinned.

"I thought you'd never ask…" Giggling like a pair of lovestruck teenagers, Ryan and Roxie resumed their passionate embraced as they backed up the stairs, hungrily groping one another.


	7. Chapter 7

**Short but sweet; hope you like it. Once again, thank you for your reviews.**

**Keep them coming! And thank you so much for taking the time to read this - more Rob/Roxie coming up! Please read and review. :)  
**

**Love,**

**Chloe xxx**

* * *

Neither had experienced a night quite as heated and electrifying as what they endured that night. The effects of the alcohol that they had both consumed to a heavy degree left them with a faint, pleasant buzz in their ears and a blur of their brains, enough to kiss goodbye to their inhibitions for the duration of their passionate encounter. As their lips pressed against each other, their tongues eagerly explored the other's mouth, and the intimate areas of their bodies moved rhythmically, the pace quickening with each minute, their hands roaming the other's naked body, it was as though dozens of fireworks were exploding around them. The rush of pleasure that coursed through Roxie's veins caused a low groan to involuntarily escape from deep within her throat, which was quickly silenced as Ryan's lips engulfed her own once again. She'd almost forgotten how good he made her feel; it was as though the knowledge of just how wrong their liaison was made it all the more thrilling. Their families had been connected through a marital bond for as long as she could remember. Carla and Michelle saw each other as sisters, so, in a way, Roxie and Ryan were expected to view one another as cousins, though the rumble of lust that she felt in the pit of her stomach whenever she caught his eye meant that she could never think of him as family. Gasping for breath as he collapsed onto the bed beside her, Roxie allowed her heavy eyelids to flutter shut, losing herself in her moment of bliss. Every second of passion with Ryan was worth having to keep such a dirty little secret from her loved ones – after all, she'd become a natural at keeping secrets with the whopper that she'd so far managed to conceal since stepping into her new life.

* * *

"Ryan!" Roxie groaned and rolled over onto her side, Michelle's shrill tone stabbing into her unconsciousness and awakening her. How the older woman could be so chipper after a late night on the town was beyond her. "Ryan, you told Steve you'd help him restock this morning, if you're not up in five minutes, I'm coming in there!" Horrified, Roxie sat up with a start, all sleepiness quickly draining from her.

"Shit!" she hissed, quickly nudging Ryan awake, "Ryan, get up!"

"What…?" Ryan grumbled, rubbing his bleary eyes and forcing them open, "What's wrong?"

"You need to get up," Roxie demanded, slipping out of bed and padding over to his hastily-discarded shirt, snatching it up from the floor and sliding it over her shoulders.

"What time is it?"

"Gone nine."

"Oh, fuck…" Ryan groaned, running his fingers through his short, dark hair and reluctantly sitting up in bed, memories of the night before flooding back to him as he caught a glimpse of Roxie's naked body before she'd concealed it beneath the buttons of his shirt. "Looking good, Donovan."

"Leave it," Roxie snapped, glaring fiercely at him before collecting her own items of clothing from his bedroom floor, all of which had been scattered around in the heat of the moment only hours prior. Ryan gave a low whistle.

"Ouch. What's up with Princess Peach this morning?" he asked, a frown appearing on his face as he, too, rose to his feet, concealing his modesty by slipping on his unclean boxers.

"A roaring hangover and more regrets than you could shake a stick at?" Roxie replied, carefully treading her way through the mess of Ryan's teenage boy-like bedroom towards the door. Ryan froze.

"You regret last night?" Roxie paused with her hand cupped over the door handle and shifted her gaze to meet his, instantly breaking out in a hot sweat at the memory of their encounter, albeit a very blurry and disjointed one.

"Oh, come on, Ry, you saw how drunk I was. It was just a bit of fun, that's all."

"That doesn't mean you have to regret it."

"If I didn't say I regretted it, you'd think there was a chance of a repeat performance." She twisted the doorknob and slowly pulled the door open a fraction, peering through the slit to make sure that the coast was clear.

"And is there?" Ryan asked, a hint of disappointment present in his tone. Roxie threw one last glance at him over her shoulder before slipping out of the room and scurrying into her own, her final comment slicing through him like a knife:

"Last night was a one-off."

* * *

As she stepped into the Rovers living room later that morning, Roxie groaned inwardly, her heart sinking as she laid eyes on her secret lover, munching his cereal pensively and flicking through the morning's paper. At her entrance, Ryan glanced up, though quickly returned to his reading once he saw who had arrived.

"Morning," he voiced, coldly. Roxie didn't reply, instead grabbing a cereal bowl from the kitchen in silence, and opening the fridge, crouching in front of it and rummaging through it.

"Where's the milk?" she finally asked.

"I finished it." Sighing, she stood and moved to take the seat opposite him, opting to eat her breakfast dry. The atmosphere between them was so tense that anybody entering would have thought that a murder had just been committed in the next room. Eventually, after what seemed like twenty minutes of pure silence but for the steady crunching of their respective breakfasts, Ryan opened his mouth to speak.

"Why are you so against the idea of you and me?" Roxie took a deep breath.

"Stupid question, isn't it?"

"Is it? Come on, Rox, we've got a connection."

"We've also got a mother and an auntie that may as well be related.

"So? It's not like we're related by blood, is it?" Ryan pointed out, dropping his spoon into his empty bowl with a loud _clatter_, frustrated, "It's like you're looking for excuses!"

"Will you keep your flamin' voice down?!" Roxie hissed through her teeth, glancing around warily before leaning a little closer to him, "Just listen to me, Ryan: I don't want you. I never have, and I never will. So just back off and leave me alone, yeah?" Ryan didn't even bother to protest, and the pair awkwardly resumed their daily tasks; Roxie continued to pick uninterestedly at her cereal, and Ryan flicked through the paper, though he wasn't really taking in any of the words scattered across the monochrome page. She was lying through her teeth; she didn't just want him, her body ached for him, longed for him to reach out and touch her, to push her down onto the sofa behind her and assault her with his kisses like he had the night before. But deep down, she knew that that was only wishful thinking, because they could never have more than just a one-night stand. She cleared her throat, overcome by the intensity of the atmosphere surrounding them. Despite her words, there was a strong sexual tension that fizzled around them that neither of them could deny.


End file.
